


Intimate Treasures

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-verse up to season 13, Intimacy, Love Story, M/M, Thoughts About Ducifer, idk how to tag this, this is a gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 05:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16968420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: If you told Dean Winchester he'd love the Devil, he would have laughed





	Intimate Treasures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madamelibrarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamelibrarian/gifts).



> THIS is for my beautiful, lovely M, who gifted me a pen set for graduation/Christmas. M, thank you so much. Here's to another year of Loving Heart.

If anyone had told Dean Winchester that one day, he’d fall in love with the Devil, he would have laughed and asked what was in their drink, because that was nonsense. He would’ve even laughed in Missouri’s face if she had told him that all those years ago. And if anyone insisted, he would’ve pointed a gun in their face and politely, yet firmly tell them to get the fuck out of his face.

And yet, that is exactly what happened. 

He, Dean Winchester, Michael’s Vessel, fell in love with the Devil. 

There was just something about Lucifer. His confidence, his willingness to walk away if Michael was so inclined. Maybe it was his low, soothing voice, that promised temptations and sins, but only if you wanted them and gave your very vocal consent. Perhaps it was even his choice of vessel while he remained out of Sam (and eventually, Castiel and that horrible rockstar Vince Vincente. He should really get rid of Sam’s albums). Dean didn’t know. Nor did he really care. He was drawn to Lucifer, drawn to the Devil, and the Devil accepted him gladly. 

No one else understood wholly what Dean felt whenever he woke up out of a nightmare, dreaming about his time as Alastair’s pupil or when he bore the Mark of Cain. No one else  understood when Dean just needed some headphones, classic rock, and to sit moodily in the front seat of the Impala, blaring the music loud enough that it promised deafness before Dean hit fifty years old- if he even lived that long. 

Sam did, but only to an extent. Lucifer truly, wholly understood, and Dean had found that the archangel’s presence was actually comforting when he needed him. They could talk about music, about greasy food and fast cars. They could talk about pain in the ass little brothers, and swap stories of raising them instead of the parents who were supposed to be doing the raising. They talked about love, hate, torture, sex. How at the end of the day, it all leaves you tired and drained and you just need intimacy. Not even sex, just the feeling of someone’s bare skin against yours, holding you. Of sleeping (or meditating) in someone’s arms, safe from the horrors of the world that you have to face day in and day out, from the moment you breath your first to the moment you breathe your last. To just feel connected mind, body and soul (or Grace) to someone else, to take refuge in someone’s arms and to also be the one that says “it’s okay, I’m here” at the same time. 

Perhaps it was because they were touch starved, tactile creatures, but Dean and Lucifer cuddled up a  _ lot  _ as their wary friendship became close friends, and then tentative lovers before saying ‘to Hell with it’ and falling head over heels for each other. They were often curled up like overgrown kittens, under mounds of blankets to keep the chill Lucifer always felt at bay while they watched action films, exchanging soft sweet kisses with each other and laughing over stupid, funny and often inappropriate memes on Dean’s phone quietly while Sam slept in another room. 

The sex was nothing short of mindblowing, but Dean found that he didn’t crave sex as often as he did when he wasn’t in love with Lucifer. As much as he loved Lisa, Lisa didn’t seem to understand how much  _ touch  _ Dean needed, especially after Sam had died. Lucifer did, and so the archangel was constantly touching Dean when they were together. And since archangels didn’t crave sex all that much, Dean found that he was content with the intimate touches that didn’t necessarily end in orgasm, the chaste ones. The touches of lovers just feeling the other’s skin. 

It had surprised Dean that Lucifer was a bit more submissive in the bedroom, but they changed their roles frequently, depending on their mood, and it was some of the most satisfying sex Dean’s ever had. He’s always been the lovemaker out of him and Sam (who is probably doing some really weird kinky shit), even though he loved a little kink. And Lucifer ate up the lovemaking, absolutely loved it. 

It had been ridiculously easy to fall in love with Lucifer. So stupidly easy. And Dean realized that that’s why they say the Devil doesn’t come to you with cloven hooves and horns, but rather everything you desire. 

But they didn’t know the true Devil, the true Angel who fell from God’s Grace. They didn’t know that Lucifer wept, that Lucifer at his heart wasn’t a fighter, but a lover. That all Lucifer ever wanted to do was write music and sing and play the fiddle (yes, that bit about him was true) and worship his Father. Similar to Dean. 

How ironic that Dean may’ve been Michael’s vessel, but Lucifer’s lover? And in reality, is the archangel-vessel bond that strong, or is the bond of two souls who found each other stronger?

Dean doesn’t know, nor does he care. 

All he knows is he’ll love Lucifer until the end of his days. And if he goes to Hell for it? 

Well, at least he knows what he’s getting himself into. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr! @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


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